Where Love Can Save Us
by tyrantsandcreampuffs
Summary: There is no happy ending for those who are less than human. / Asucaga. Oneshot. Part 1 of The Spectrum Series. #18


**Where Love Can Save Us  
****by Starrify**

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Notes: This song has been playing nonstop and demanded me to write something. So while I struggle with my non-existent writing career (because I do want to leave a lasting legacy of sorts), here is another oneshot with a different format. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The featured passages are lines from the song Spectrum by Zedd.

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_breathing you in when i want you out_

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She falls in love with him in the course of one night—over a small pack of military-issued food ration; a warm blanket over her shivering body, and a gunshot wound on the side of his. The flames crackle, his blood continues to trickle; and all she can do is gulp as he unzips his uniform.

This isn't right, she tells herself. Falling in love with the enemy is something unforgiveable. But who is Athrun? Is he the enemy, the real reason why there is all this suffering on Earth? What was the difference between them, what makes him _evil_ as a coordinator, as a member of ZAFT?

How come all she can see are the bleak shades of gray over his green eyes?

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Later, they meet again—and whatever affection she has for him is washed away on the shore where she sees his body in place of Kira's.

Or not. Because if there's one thing he isn't, it's _evil_. He is misguided and aloof, confused—and like everyone else, is just doing what he can to survive.

She places her amulet over his neck. The sun, a distant orange—like it was on that fateful day.

"I don't want anybody else to die."

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Her father is dead; her people are dying—and everywhere she looks there seems to be no hope.

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But then, she turns and looks _and_—his eyes are a beautiful green.

"I won't let _you_ die."

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_no one can blind us any longer_

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They are children thrown into the flames of war, to be tried—to survive for as long as they can and live until they're older and the next war tests them anew.

And what _have_ they been through? Two wars—and one _almost_ war. Neither of them are that much older, at least technically. She feels the weight of her nation in her bones; and he is still there, supporting her, being her much needed pillar.

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Until, it is too much for her to bear—_for both of them_.

"Let's run away," she offers. "I'll prepare everything needed for the transition, and then we can disappear. Do the same trick everyone on the Archangel did."

He thinks she's joking, but she couldn't be more serious.

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_we'll run where lights won't chase us_

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"I'm not going to let you die here."

A hundred-fifty meters to the next shelter, twenty gunmen after the both of them, two bullets left in his magazine—and in spite of everything, she wants to laugh.

"You've said that countless of times."

"And you say that like I don't follow up on my word," he snaps back as he peeks through the small crevice between the metal door and its frame. "Trust me—when have I ever let you die?"

Now, she laughs.

"Alright," she acquiesces, although it does nothing to slow the fast pace of her heart from the familiar adrenaline, from another attempt being made on her life. "I mean, you're definitely going to do your best to not let me die _here_, but we've both got to accept that I will die _somewhere_, right?"

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He pulls back into the small storage unit they cramped themselves into to get away from all those after them. He is eerily calm; instead of focusing on how he'll find a way for them to escape, his mind drifts to fading memories of times she'd get away from parties, of times they'd end up in a tight space similar to where they were presently occupying.

"Maybe," he replies with a shake of his head. A hundred-fifty meters to the next shelter, twenty gunmen after the both of them, two bullets left in his magazine. He peeks again and sees an opening for them to run out. "But not here."

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_hide where love can save us_

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This is what you get, she tells herself. For falling in love with the enemy.

Because as long as she is a natural and he is a coordinator, there can be no happy ending for the two of them. This is the basic premise of every fairytale—the beauty cannot truly love the beast, not until he is as human as she. The mermaid trades her tail for legs, for the prince who could maybe love her, for that's what humans have.

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There is no happy ending for those who are less than human.

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But some nights, as they take a much deserved respite from their life on the run, he leans closer and whispers the only words she can find comfort in.

And she never fails to say it back, though her whisper-response gets blown away along with the leaves in the wind. It does not bother either of them, for _it_ is there in the air around them, everywhere—all-encompassing. That is her love for him.

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_i will never let you go_

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"I'm not going to let you die here."

His hands are cupped just below her mouth, attempting to catch all the blood that is flooding up her airways. She watches with grisly fascination as the dark red liquid overflows; and wonders how can there be _so much_ in her body. Almost like a flood, a tidal wave—the salty water which almost drowned her years ago. Except he had saved her then, cut up the rope which bound her limbs and rendered her defenseless against the rising tide.

But now, where is her salvation?

"Let go," she coughs out weakly, but as she speaks more blood rushes out of her. "Just let me go."

"I'm not going to let you die—_not here_," he cries again and his green eyes—still so beautiful despite the fine lines forming around them, despite the tears pooling in them—show his desperation. "Damn it, Cagalli; don't give up on me now!"

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The stones hold her down the river; her body weak against the undertow, the raging current of the waters. The sun, a distant orange—

This is not the thing of fairytales.

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_breathing you in when i want you out_

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There is no happy ending for those who are less than human.


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